These Wings Were Made To Fly
by imnemocomeandfindme
Summary: An idea I had, that I just had to write down, about Dougie growing wings, basically. I wrote the first five chapters in a couple of hours, but I plan to write more! Please review...it makes me happy inside :)
1. Chapter 1

Dougie groans, rolling his shoulders back. Of all the days, it had to be the one where he was auditioning for a band when his back-ache came again.

For the last year or so, he had woken up with a dull throb of pain across his shoulder blades. Some days it was worse than others, some days it was better, but now of all times it was really hurting. It actually felt like there was a hot weight on his back today, but it couldn't be helped, he would just have to do the best he could at the audition on a couple of painkillers, and hope for the best.


	2. Chapter 2

He had been living in the bandhouse for five weeks when it happened. He woke up, and his back really hurt, more than it had done before. He couldn't even lie on it anymore.

He staggered to the bathroom, pausing to yank off the shirt he slept in, and taking in a deep breath and letting it out in a hiss of pain while the fire that had gone across his back died down. Once in the bathroom, he closed the door and turned on the light. The big mirror over the sink showed his reflection: small and skinny, with a blonde fringe flopping over his forehead. He turned around, and dug his nails into his hands when he saw his back. All over the top half was red, like he'd been slapped, with bruising running down from his shoulder blades for a few centimetres. Right over the bone of the shoulder blade, though, where it hurt the most, were some tiny greyish dots where he supposed his pores were. That was weird, but maybe everyone had it, and he was making a big deal about nothing. It could just be a weird sort of acne, and it would probably go away soon enough by itself. Nothing to worry about. Just go back to bed, and try not to think about it.


	3. Chapter 3

For a few days after that, all Dougie noticed was that added to the pain was a terrible itchiness. He tried scratching what he could, but it was such an awkward place to reach and it hurt to bend his arms back like that so he stopped. He tried to ignore it, so didn't look, and didn't see the changes across his back.

That was until one morning, when he was sitting in the kitchen having breakfast, before the others had got up, after his back had woken him yet again.

"Alright, Dougs?" Harry said cheerily, swinging into the door and slapping Dougie on the back in a friendly manner, which made the smaller boy yell and clench every muscle in his body.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry! What's wrong?" Harry said, concern in every movement as he bent down to look into Dougie's face.

"I'm fine. My back just hurts, that's all," Dougie said, getting up and ignoring the pain still flaring across between his shoulder blades.

"Let me take a look at it. My mum used to be a sports therapist so I might know something to do," Harry said, encouraging smile and outstretched hands.

"No thanks, I don't know if it's that kind of problem," Dougie smiled weakly, turning to leave the kitchen.

"Please can I just take a look? It can't make it worse..." Harry said, jumping in front of him. he had a point, Dougie supposed, and maybe Harry could tell him if it was normal, whatever this was.

"Okay. What should I do?" Dougie asked, not entirely sure of the way to go about it.

"Take off your shirt and lie on the carpet over there?" Harry suggested, waving in the direction of the sitting room rug.

Dougie walked towards it and turned to face Harry before taking his shirt off, not quite managing to hide his grimace as he did so. Then he lay down, and watched Harry pull back the curtains so that they could get enough light to see.

He saw Harry look over to him, and heard him gasp at the redness he knew was always there. Harry strode forward and crouched down, lightly brushing his fingers over Dougie's back, making the smaller boy shiver and close his eyes at the feeling of painful skin being touched.

"Dougie, are your pillows or duvet broken?" Harry asked in hushed tones, which made Dougie frown and look sideways at him.

"I don't know. I've found a couple of feathers from them I think, but I couldn't find any tears, so I assumed they got there some other way. Why?"

"I think I know where they're coming from," Harry said, his voice tight. His hand moved down, and Dougie saw his wrist flex at the same time as he felt a sharp pull on his back, like a combination of being pinched and having a hair pulled out. Then Harry held out his hand, and between two fingers was a small, downy feather.

Dougie scrambled to his feet, and ran to the bathroom. Under it's bright light, he saw about thirty small, white, feathers, no bigger than his fingernails dotted across his shoulder blades.

Harry arrived by the bathroom door a second later, to find Dougie scrabbling at his back.

"Get them out! Get them out," he was saying through gritted teeth, pulling at the feathers as best he could.

Harry jumped forwards and grabbed his friends wrists, stopping him and holding them tightly together.

"No, you can't pull them out, Dougie!"

"But they're not normal!" Dougie said, tears spilling from his eyes, which Harry brushed away softly with his thumbs.

"You're right. They're special," Harry soothed, pulling Dougie into his chest, careful to avoid the tender parts of his back. "We need to let them grow, and see what happens. Okay?"

"Okay," Dougie said, trying to find comfort that Harry wasn't freaking out, and not entirely succeeding.


	4. Chapter 4

McFly was starting to get noticed, but the few interviews they had done had been fine. Tom and Danny didn't know what was going on, but Harry had diverted attention from Dougie whenever he needed it, taking away what pressure he could.

For the month after Harry saw them, the feathers carried on growing in two clumps around his shoulders, but were small enough not to be noticeable. After a month, though, Dougie began to notice something that concerned him even more, and wanted Harry to check.

"Bumps?" Harry said, as Dougie took off his shirt one night in Harry's room.

"Yeah. Two, one on each side," Dougie said, turning so he was facing away from Harry. He felt his fingers come up and trace a line down in line with the feathers, Harry knowing enough to not ruffle them the wrong way.

"I think you're right," Harry said, stepping back. "Do they hurt much?"

"Not too much more than normal. There's a lot of bruises though," Dougie shrugs. They just have to carry on, hope for the best as their fame grows. It's too far gone to see a doctor now.


	5. Chapter 5

A year after their first single, Dougie has protrusions as long as his arms, covered in feathers which are rapidly getting bigger, and he has some control over moving them. There's a bend near the top, so that he can keep them folded behind his back, tucked up under his t shirt so no-one can see.

"You need to tell them," Harry says, as Dougie lies on his bed, baggy hoodie on to cover them up in case anyone comes in. "Come on, Dougs. You've known them long enough and they need to know. Tom and Danny would never reject you, but even if you don't say anything they're going to find out eventually, and it's better coming from you."

"I know, Harry. It's just hard... I mean, how do you tell two guys you've been living with for a year that you're not as normal as they thought you were, or actually not normal at all, and even you don't understand why?"

"You know that they'll think it's cool right?"

"Yeah, yeah. Fine. I'll do it now," Dougie says, pushing himself up and swinging his legs off the bed.

"Really?" Harry says with surprise, like he didn't really expect Dougie to do it, at least not right then.

"Yeah. I don't want to wimp out later," he smiles weakly, and twists the door handle. "Come on then, or are you just going to leave me to do it all by myself?"

Harry scrambles to his feet and follows Dougie down the stairs to the living room, where Tom and Danny are having a vicious game of table football.

"Hey guys," Dougie waves, but Tom's facing the other way and Danny only glances up before returning his focus to the game in front of him.

"Hey Dougster. What's up?" Danny says, taking advantage of a momentary lapse in concentration from Tom as Harry pokes him to score.

"I want to tell you something. Or show you. I haven't decided which yet..." Dougie says, making Tom and Danny both look up properly with his tone.

"Tell or show away then," Tom says, jumping over the back of the sofa to watch expectantly, Danny going to sit on the arm while Harry stands Next to Dougie.

"Does he know already?" Danny asks, pointing at Harry. "Because I thought we said we were always going to tell secrets as a group, and it's not right if you only told Harry!"

"He didn't mean to tell me," Harry leaps in. "I found out before him in a way..."

While Danny looks even more confused at this statement, Tom just frowns.

"Can you please just tell us, Dougie?" Tom groans looking at him with worry.

"Well, it is actually probably easier to show you, and then explain afterwards..." Dougie says, looking at Harry who nods.

"Did you get a huge new tattoo?" Tom asks, as Dougie reaches to pull off his hoodie and shirt.

He shakes his head no before pulling his clothing over his head and standing back straight, looking at the others as he unfolds his, well, his wings. Because they are almost big enough to call them that, and it looks like that's what they're going to grow into.

Danny stands, turns back to Tom, who is frozen with his mouth open, then looks round to Harry, who's watching their reactions with an amused expression. Danny turns back to Dougie, and walks behind him, and Dougie jumps a bit when he feels fingers pressing into the skin between them, but relaxes as Danny brushes his fingers down over the feathers.

"Are they real?" Tom whispers, standing too now, like seeing Danny touch them allowed him to move again.

"As real as I am," Dougie replies, stretching them out for effect to see the way Tom's eyes widen.

"Feel 'em, Tom! They're really soft!" Danny says, grabbing Tom's hand and pulling him round to touch.

"Do you mind?" Tom asks Dougie, always careful not to cause discomfort.

"No, go ahead," Dougie grins, gesturing behind his back.

Tom goes around, and Dougie feels another set of hands running down the length of one wing, then the other, cautiously feeling around where they join onto his back, where the feathers stop. When Danny pushes his hand up slightly to feel the skin under the feathers he leans back into it slightly, because that felt nice, actually.

"How long have you had them?" Danny asks, coming back round so he can talk to Dougie.

"I started getting feathers a few weeks after I moved in here, but my back hurt a lot for almost a year before that, so I guess it depends when you count it from..."

"Why didn't you say anything before, then?" Tom asks, still out of sight behind him.

"Because I didn't know you that well, and it was weird. I didn't know how you were going to react, so I was scared."

"I only found out because I hit him and he nearly passed out with pain, so I offered to take a look. I wasn't expecting tiny feathers, though," Harry grins.

"You know there are bones in them," Tom says, and Dougie can feel his fingers pressing into the join where they bend. "That means you have extra bits of skeleton, which will be really interesting for future archaeologists to dig up and argue about..."

"Yeah, I'm sure that's what he's most worried about," Danny says, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Tom steps away and comes to face Dougie, blushing slightly.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to sound like that was the most important bit or anything," Tom stammers, looking embarrassed.

"No, it's fine, really," Dougie reassures him, because he hadn't thought of that before, and the image of them digging up some kind of half man, half bird, is a funny one really.

"He'll just have to be cremated," Harry laughs, and Tom looks relived that Dougie wasn't offended.


	6. Chapter 6

Tom starts keeping a diary. He would, because that's just what he's like, wanting to document everything. He uses a tape measure to see how long the wings are, and makes Dougie weigh himself, every Monday and Thursday. Dougie lets him do it, because even if he's not sure quite what Tom hopes to achieve with his little notebook of lengths and weights, it's interesting. He drew the line at Tom taking a feather for each measurement, saying he didn't want to have stupid bald patches.

Tom and Danny are good about finding out, though. Danny especially gives him some weird looks, and offers to help with more stuff, which starts out funny, but then Dougie starts feeling like they're treating the wings as some kind of disability, and that's not something he's comfortable with.

Harry keeps things under control. A reassuring hand on Dougie's shoulder if things are getting annoying with the others, or a joke about not being able to stop staring directed at Danny, asking Tom to come and look at something with him to get him out of the room for a minute.

They tried to play football in the garden the other day, just the four of them. Danny started, passing to Tom, who kicked it in Dougie's direction, and as he ran towards it he felt off balance, and after a couple of strides fell onto the grass.

"You okay, Dougs?" Tom asks, jogging over.

"Yeah," Dougie says, pushing himself up. "Think I fell funny on one of them," he says rolling his shoulder. He doesn't like directly talking about the wings most of the time. It still freaks him out a little bit, if he thinks about it.

"What happened? You just went over..." Danny says, looking confused.

"Overbalanced. I'm not used to them being so big," Dougie stands, pulling his shirt down where it rode up slightly, a few pale feathers sticking out of the bottom. "I'm going inside."

With that he turns, ignoring the eyes he can feel on his back, and striding up the steps through the door into their living room, flopping face down on the sofa and trying to decide if he feels ike crying with frustration or not. Then he hears the door open and close again and footsteps across the floor. He lifts his head to see Tom going through into the kitchen, then return with two glasses of water and begin to walk towards Dougie.

"Uugh. Don't try to make me feel better, Fletcher. Go play with the others," Dougie groans, not in the mood for sympathy.

"I was gonna watch a film, actually," Tom says, mock offence in his voice as he sets down the second glass of water by Dougie's head. "I didn't really want to play football anyway..."

"Oh yeah? If you're not trying to be all nice to me then what's with the water?"

"It's a hot day," Tom shrugs, downing some of his own. Dougie knows that that's not strictly true, that he really is trying to be nice, but he's not going to push it, when Tom is just doing what little he can to make things better.

Tom puts his glass down and practically skips to their DVD collection, getting out Toy Story and Jurassic Park, his and Dougie's favourite films, respectively.

"Which one?" he asks, holding them up so Dougie can see the covers.

Dougie pretends to think, pouting and looking between them until Tom jiggles impatiently and he decides.

"Okay, then. Toy Story."

His words have the desired effect, when Tom grins wide, bounces up and down as he slides the disk into the player and jumps up, pulling Dougie's legs up so he can sit, then replacing them over his lap.

"You're such a kid, y'know," Dougie giggles as the opening credits play, and Tom hums along to the soundtrack, and he gets a thwack on the leg in retaliation.

"Look who's talking," Tom says pointedly, poking at Dougie's Star Wars t-shirt.

Dougie has to grant he has a point, so settles down. Right there, listening to the shouts of the others outside and with Tom absent-mindedly stroking his fingers over Dougie's legs, he thinks maybe he can still be normal after all.


	7. Chapter 7

Tom crouches over the bathroom scales, reading the number off the dial on the front. Dougie stands as still as he can so he doesn't jiggle the numbers, wearing only tracksuit bottoms with his wings folded behind him.

"80 kilograms," Tom reads out loud, straightening up and writing the numbers in his notebook. "Okay, down to the living room."

Dougie follows Tom obediently. They've been doing this for almost a year and a half now, so he knows the drill.

Once they're stood between the sofa and the TV, Tom calls Harry through to help, because he can't reach all the way across both wings now when they're stretched out.

"Get 'em up, Poynter," Harry grins, grabbing one end of the tape measure and stepping backwards, so that when Dougie does lift up his wings, he can hold the tape to the tip of the left one. Tom pulls out the measure so that it runs along the top of the wings, and squints to read the numbers, grinning as he writes them in his little book.

"You done now, professor?" Dougie asks jokingly, putting his wings down and turning to watch Tom as he punches numbers into the calculator he bought recently, though what he's doing with it, Dougie has no idea.

"Gimmie a minute," Tom says with a frown, scratching his forehead with the pencil.

Dougie flops down onto the sofa to wait, but only seconds later is pulled back up so Harry can sit next to him.

"Harry, what are you doing?" Dougie asks, though he doesn't quite manage the indignant tone he was aiming for when Harry pulls him back so he's lying against the brunette, the wings folded tight between them not entirely uncomfortably.

"Just... snuggling," Harry says, pressing his nose against the top of Dougie's back.

"Are you smelling them?" Dougie demands, when he feels Harry snuffling against him.

"Might be," Harry says, and Dougie can feel him grinning. "They smell nice. Feel nice too... warm and soft," he says, running his fingers through the feathers and blowing over the top of one.

"If I can interrupt your romantic moment," Tom says, grinning happily, "I have some news."

"You're not pregnant, are you Tom?" Dougie mock gasps, pressing his hands to his mouth and widening his eyes for comic effect, but erupting into giggles when Tom thwacks him with his notebook, muttering something about stuck with immature idiots as Dougie feels Harry laughing beneath him.

"No. I've been doing some research and calculations, and I think you might have stopped growing," Tom says, pointing his pencil at Dougie, who stops laughing to consider his statement, feeling Harry pause beneath him too.

"As a matter of interest, what research could you possibly have done into this, Tom?" Harry asks, voice torn between mocking and genuine interest.

"Well... bird's wingspan in proportion to their length and weight, and," he pauses, looking guilty, "and rates of growth for pregnant women. That's what all the measurements were for; I'd noticed a slight slowing in growth over the past couple of months, but I wanted to be sure before I said anything."

"Why is Tom talking about pregnant women?" Danny asks, entering from the kitchen with a sandwich.

"I think Dougie's wings have stopped growing, and I used the rate of growth for pregnancy combined with data on birds wings to –"

"Will I understand it?" Danny asks, holding his hand up to stop Tom.

"Well..."

"Then don't try to explain. Does this mean Dougs can take off from the nest now he's not a baby birdie?"

They all stare at Danny, shocked at the thought of Dougie actually flying.

"Do you think that could actually happen?" Harry demands, turning to Tom. He pushes his glasses further up his nose, looking back at his numbers, before looking Dougie straight in the eye.

"Yes."


End file.
